The Cove
by ohnosteve
Summary: For centuries ships have been dashed upon the rocks of this place. If she buries herself here, Bulma is sure she will be safe. But secret places have their own danger, and nothing stays buried forever. AU B/V
1. Chapter 1: Almost A Stranger

This is an idea I've had kicking around for ages now, but I didn't want to write it and get distracted from my other story. I ended up starting writing it to get it out of my head and I figure if I'm writing it anyway, I might as well post it. The Cove is an all-human AU, primarily a B/V with mystery elements. G/CC and K/18 appear also, but this isn't a true ensemble fic like Have It All.

**Chapter 1: Almost A Stranger**

Bulma Briefs checked her roots in the mirror. Like the rest of the house it was clean, but small and worn with age. She put in coloured contact lenses then covered her pale eyelashes with dark mascara. The girl in the mirror looked almost a stranger.

"That's a good thing," Bulma told the mirror girl and packed up her makeup case. "It's really, really great."

Chichi smiled politely as Bulma walked through the tiny living area to replace her case and collect a handbag from the guest room.

"Are you sure you don't mind going out?" Chichi seemed torn between being polite and accommodating to her guest and keeping her own date. It was clear to Bulma that the other woman was also still bewildered by the more general situation.

"Of course. I need to explore the town some time, after all. The only places I've been so far are your house and work." Bulma practiced her smile. She had a special smile for while she was living here. When being natural, she had her mother's smile. Too recognisable. "I'll get something to eat, see you later tonight. I'll give a ring before I come back, to make sure you're not still busy."

Chichi smiled without releasing any of the stress from her face. Bulma couldn't blame her.

Bulma picked her way down the steep hill on which the town was built. There were no footpaths here, and the houses were all cheap little post-war bungalows like Chichi's. The road had a narrow unsealed shoulder which dipped sharply down to the houses, and Bulma couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to come roaring up the hill and sideswipe her off the shoulder and into someone's front garden, where she'd lie broken until they came out to get their paper in the morning. Maybe that was the best she could hope for right now.

It was easier to walk in the town proper, although the dramatic slope continued right down until it hit the beach and Ocean Road, built to hug the coast. Cracking footpaths fronted the Main Street businesses, beneath sagging tin awnings and faded signs. Several local residents turned to look at her. It was unusual, Chichi had told her, to see strangers outside the tourist season. From the ill repair of the buildings, Bulma assumed it was pretty unusual to see strangers inside the tourist season, too.

She tottered down the hill until she reached Ocean Road, where little shops designed for local use gave way to formerly impressive structures built for the booming tourist trade of the early twentieth century. She took a table in a seafood restaurant housed in the lower floor of what had once been a beautiful art deco seaside hotel but now sat like an old movie star, faded and sad in outdated finery, hoping for discerning eyes to spot the fine bones beneath.

This was perhaps the most formal dining in town, according to Chichi, but Bulma's fish was brought to her in a paper basket and accompanied by plastic cutlery. Bulma had not often found occasion to eat food that wasn't served on real plates. She wasn't hungry anyway. From her patio table the view of the glassy ocean and imposing rocks beyond was interrupted only by the flat sweep of the road, giving way to the perfectly white sands of The Cove's pristine beach. The air was chilly, but people walked the beach anyway. Some walked in their winter clothes, accompanied by dogs. Others walked brown-skinned and shirtless, apparently immune to the effects of weather.

The sunset bathed them all in unnaturally warm light. Bulma couldn't decide if it was orange like a fond summer memory or red like a warning.


	2. Chapter 2: Honesty Box

**Chapter 2: Honesty Box**

"And you say it was a white car?"

The old man nodded and Goku added the information to his notebook.

"Was it ... an old car?"

Vegeta, standing next to him, sighed. "Did you see the licence plate?" He gave Goku a sideways look and the taller man chuckled. That was supposed to be the first thing they asked, but he always forgot.

The old-timer had not seen the licence plate, and had no further relevant information. As they left the property for their own car Goku shook his head sadly. "What's the world coming to, huh? An old man can't even put his eggs for sale and trust people to use the honesty box. East Island is turning into a den of inequality!"

"Iniquity. And no, it isn't."

Vegeta took the wheel and Goku slid into the passenger seat. "But we'll never even catch the guy. Those eggs will go unavenged."

For a moment, Goku thought Vegeta was going to bang his forehead on the steering wheel a few times. It wouldn't be a first.

"It's winter, Kakarrot. How many hire cars do you think are currently doing the north-south? The ferry keeps records of all vehicles transported. Of all the white cars coming over in the past week or so, most would be residents, and a couple would be long-terms who wouldn't be this far south. Once we weed those out we'll probably only be left with one tourist dumb enough to think there's anything to do here in the winter."

"Yes!" Goku pumped a victorious fist. "I hope he gets the max."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "What? Pay the one dollar he owes the honesty box, and maybe a warning on the theft."

Goku knew the bitter tone in his partner's voice meant it wasn't worth continuing the conversation. The aggressive speed with which the car tore out of the driveway and onto Ocean Road confirmed it. He couldn't really blame Vegeta. Like most teenagers on East Island, Goku had gone away to board for years eleven and twelve, but he'd only gone to West Island, and he'd come straight back to work in the tiny East Island Police Department. Vegeta's father was the traditional leader of the East Island people, as well as the elected leader of the East Island government, such as it was. It was important to everyone on the island that the family which traditionally led also provided someone appropriately qualified to be their elected official, so as to continue a tradition of peacefully uncontested elections and maintain the importance of their cultural leadership. So Vegeta had been sent to Australia for his eleven and twelve, and to America for a college degree, so he could be a good leader. He'd seen places Goku couldn't dream about. He'd lived in New York for four years.

And then he'd had to come back to a place where big cities only existed on VHS and the most exciting crimes he could expect to thwart as a police officer involved light vandalism or underage drinking.

"He might have left the islands already, anyway."

Goku was so lost in his thoughts it took him a second to figure out what Vegeta meant.

"Oh, yeah. When's the report from?"

"A few days ago."

Because the island was so sparsely populated, the East Island Police Department consisted entirely of Goku and Vegeta. Technically, Vegeta's father had installed him as head of the police department, but having only one employee made it necessary for him to function as one of the foot soldiers. They were only able to see to reports from down the south of the island once a week, or when a few of them piled up, whichever came first. They didn't have time to be making the several hour trip every day, and apparently when Vegeta crunched the numbers he found using up that much petrol would probably cause a national debt crisis or something.

"You should come over Chichi's for dinner tonight."

"Uh-huh." Vegeta's eyes didn't leave the road, and his attention didn't leave everything that wasn't Goku.

"She's got a guest, can you believe, at this time of year. It's a girl, so I think you should go out with her and we could have a double wedding where the grooms are best friends with each other and the brides are best friends with each other."

"You are not even my friend, let alone my best friend, and I have no interest in dating some sad, scraggy hag your girlfriend dredged up."

"Oh, come on. You don't know that she's any of those things. I haven't seen her yet, but Raditz said the other day he saw a pretty girl he didn't recognise eating at the seafood. That must have been her. He said she was really pale, with dark hair and eyes and she was just staring into the distance looking sad. So I'm already thinking you have something in common and could enjoy spending a whole date just looking at the mountain and moping."

"If I violently turn the wheel soon, don't be alarmed. I'm just driving us both into the ocean because drowning is certainly better than listening to your shit for hours."

Goku laughed. "Okay, I'll just tell Chichi to set a place for you. Now, our next stop..." he consulted his notebook. "Our next stop is in the south village. Apparently someone's neighbour has been sneaking into their yard early in the morning and milking their goats, like to steal all the milk I presume."

Vegeta groaned.

Goku snapped the notebook shut and thumped his fist into the other palm. "Goats! Man, is _nothing_ sacred to criminals?"

* * *

In a way, the work was soothing. Bulma could do this data entry and light secretarial stuff without ever actually engaging her brain, leaving it free for other things. A lot of the stuff it tried to think about was one hundred percent non-soothing, but she was getting the hang of redirecting herself without having to pause or slow down what she was being paid to do.

"Bulma Beattie, huh? Like the scientist."

She smiled blandly and rested her fingertips on the keyboard. "That's right. I was born right around the same time and my parents were a fan of her mother's films."

He laughed. Of all the biologists working out of this building, Zarbon was definitely the cutest. She thought about Yamcha, back home and wondering where she was, if she was okay. Just the thought caused a sharp pang low in her belly. He might think she was dead. She felt a little ill.

"Celebrities and their weird baby names. People feel sorry for the celebrity baby, but forget about all the copycat kids who get stuck with the name, but none of the advantages the original has."

Bulma shrugged. "It's not so bad. I was embarrassed by it when I was a kid, but I wouldn't change it now."

One of the other scientists called out to ask if Zarbon was using a certain computer and he had to leave to defend his processing data. She was a little relieved. The long hair and easy charm made her think of Yamcha, despite their many obvious differences, and she wasn't ready yet to think about what she was doing.

She went back to typing, typing, typing and pretending she didn't know what their data meant.

* * *

To save her a trip in the town's one dilapidated taxi, Zarbon offered to drive her home that afternoon. Bulma politely declined, but when he pressed she let him drop her off at the corner of Ocean and Main. She could walk from here. When she went back to her real life one day, she was going to have some amazing calf muscles.

She hadn't stopped to look around at this time of day before. Her only trip into the town had been that one dinner and she thought of it as a place where nothing happened, residents just sitting around and staring blankly into space. Watching the bustle on the beach now, she supposed she was wrong.

It was slower than city bustle, but it was activity. Locals were paddling their boats in to the beach now, passing their catches out to waiting friends or family, then dragging the boats onto the sand and flipping them over for the night. It was clearly a social time of day, with many people standing around talking to the ones at work.

A pair of teenagers bumped past her in a hurry to sprint across the road and down the concrete stairs to the beach, and she realised she'd been staring. Bulma slipped off her heels and began the long walk uphill to Chichi's house, shoes in hand.

* * *

"Time to break out the wine." Chichi held up a cheap bottle of red with a big smile on her face and Goku clapped and cheered. Even Goku's recalcitrant friend managed an appreciative nod and something close to a smile.

"Not for me, thanks." Bulma put a hand over her glass. The two men looked at her as though she were an alien and Chichi laughed.

"Bulma. This is going to be the last drink you have for a while."

She frowned. Bulma wasn't a heavy drinker, but she liked to relax with a refreshment not infrequently. "I came to a holiday spot, Chichi, I didn't sign up to be a nun."

"They don't sell alcohol here."

Bulma's eyebrows began a dramatic expedition north.

"It's illegal to buy or sell alcohol on East Island." This was the first thing she'd heard Goku's friend say. The two men had arrived nearly fifteen minutes ago and he'd spent the whole time silently glaring at everyone and everything. "If you want to drink, you have to bring it over from West Island. There are limits to ensure only personal supplies are brought over, not large quantities for commercial purposes."

She was aghast. "But why?"

He let Chichi fill his glass and took a sip before answering. "In small, isolated communities, the introduction of readily-available alcohol often leads to a major increase in crime."

"Hmm." Bulma uncovered her glass and Chichi poured. It might be cheap, but if it was all there was, she'd take it. "I suppose that makes sense, although there are always problems with substance bans. Are you going to introduce yourself, by the way?"

"Are you?" he snapped.

"Sorry!" Chichi sprung in between them. "Vegeta, this is Bulma Beattie. She's a friend from high school and she's staying with me for a little while and doing some secretarial work over at the lab. Bulma, this is Vegeta. He works with my Goku."

"Oh, you're a police officer?" That made sense. In Bulma's limited experience of police officers they were always either angry people, or pompous, officious people who liked lording over you the fact that they could arrest you. Vegeta seemed to have both roles covered.

"And one day he's going to be the leader of East Island, too." Goku slapped one hand onto Vegeta's shoulder and beamed at Bulma like a proud father.

"Bulma, like the missing businesswoman?"

She smiled tersely. It was clear Vegeta was attempting to evade discussion of this leadership business, so she indulged him. "There are a lot of us around my age. Celebrity baby names, you know?"

"I feel bad for that poor girl," Goku said, shaking his head. "I hope she's okay somewhere."

Chichi shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fidgeted with her wine glass. She glanced nervously over at Bulma, who smiled a reassurance.

"She's probably dead." Vegeta took another sip while Chichi and Goku made distressed noises.

"Vegeta! That's not nice. You shouldn't assume the worst like that." Goku slammed back the rest of his drink and held the glass out to Chichi for another.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about such depressing things," Chichi suggested in a tight, anxious voice. "I'll just get the fish out of the oven and we can eat. Maybe if you all sit down and you two can tell Bulma about some things she might like to see over the weekend."

Vegeta shrugged and pulled out a chair. "I'm just looking at the facts. That's what happened to all the others."

* * *

oooooooo

Anyway, let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3: Any Other Time

**Chapter 3: Any Other Time**

Bulma thought about the others while she changed into her pyjamas. Goku's friend was rude, but he wasn't wrong. She was the only one she could be sure still lived, although the fact that there was no report of finding Dr. Gero's body after two weeks suggested he might have had the same thought as her.

She put the contact lenses into their case and slipped it into her bedside drawer. Whatever Gero's hiding place, it was probably better than hers. She'd been in a raw panic when she decided to leave, and this was the best she could think up. Chichi was an old friend, but not a very close one, and they hadn't seen each other for years. Nobody would think to check her place, but she wouldn't think of turning Bulma down in a moment of need, even if it was an imposition.

Once the lights were out, Bulma slipped under the light blanket and stared at the ceiling. Even though everything suggested he'd taken the others in broad daylight, it was in the dark that she got scared.

* * *

"Okay, Bulma, now make sure you're sitting in the middle of your seat so you and Chichi balance each other out."

"What?" Bulma leant to the right to hear Goku better and Chichi shrieked as the boat flipped, dumping both women in the shallow water.

When Bulma lifted her head from the cold water she could hear Goku and Raditz laughing. She turned her head so they couldn't see and blinked a few times, feeling the contact lenses settle in place.

Chichi was already turning the boat right way up when Bulma stood and joined in the laughter, hands on hips. "This is impossible! Why would you guys use boats that flip over so easily? How do people fish, or pull in their crab pots or whatever?"

Goku shrugged.

"Practice," Raditz said. "While one person leans over for the food, the other one stops the boat from completely flipping, then it rights itself as you both return to centre."

"Hmph." Bulma pushed her heavy fringe off her forehead. "Sounds deadly in a storm."

"Not much weather gets through." Raditz pointed to the high rock walls shutting The Cove off from the ocean. Most of East Island's east facing coast was rocky cliff-face. Bulma knew the first landing on the island had been by a boat which managed to make it through the tiny opening at the furthest point of the perfectly circular cove formation, but nobody had ever succeeded since.

"You ready?" Chichi was holding the boat steady and leaning over it, ready for Bulma to take up position on the other side and attempt the delicate boarding manoeuvre.

"I'm sorry, Chichi. It's too cold for me. I'm really a summer swimmer only."

It didn't get terribly cold on these islands, and Chichi's expression was concerned. As Bulma waded back to the beach she could hear Chichi's low voice telling the two men "she's just having some family problems, don't bother her about it" and in a way Bulma supposed that wasn't a lie.

She spread her towel on the sand and pulled a trashy romance novel out of her bag. Any other time, she would have been amazed at how perfect this beach was, with its calm, crystal clear waters and perfect white sands. Chichi made some gestures, asking if Bulma minded her staying out a bit longer, and Bulma gave her a thumbs up. She scrambled onto the middle seat in between Raditz and Goku, and Bulma shook her head. She was definitely impressed by the easy way they adjusted their position to accommodate her boarding, and the natural way Chichi found the perfect centre of her seat so everybody could re-settle.

"We're going to do some fishing!" Goku bellowed across the water, and Bulma gave another thumbs up, but turned her attention elsewhere. She'd heard from Chichi that Goku's family weren't fishers, but turtle catchers, and she didn't want to see them kill a turtle.

In other parts of the water, tall, bronzed teenagers were swimming, not for fun but in steady laps across the circular cove. Bulma presumed their positions and the routes they took were based on how strong they were as swimmers, but it seemed like a weird thing to be doing, when lap swimmers could have used the ocean-fed swimming pool built into the rocks at the sports centre just a little further south.

"What are they doing?" she murmured to herself.

"Practicing for the big swim in a few weeks."

The voice startled her; she dropped her book in the sand and shot onto her feet. "Fuck! Damnit! What the hell?" She spun around and Goku's friend regarded her with a strange expression somewhere between fascination and contempt. Bulma rested a hand on her rapidly beating heart. "You startled me. I didn't know anyone was standing there."

"I was walking down the beach."

His attention turned back to the swimmers, but he didn't keep walking. Bulma fidgeted with her wet clothes.

"So, um." He turned his eyes back to hers. She wished she knew enough about him to know whether he always looked so suspiciously at people, or if he just had a feeling about her. "Do you and Goku take the same days off? Who looks after the law and the order on weekends?"

"We're always on call, and I'm down here officially."

Bulma took in his t-shirt, bare feet and baggy board shorts. She raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"No life guards." He pointed to the kids swimming across the water. "This close to the big swim they start taking risks to get ready. We don't want any to drown before they get a chance at their swim."

She laughed. "What, you don't care if they drown in the actual event?"

One of the swimmers stopped their progress to tread water and Vegeta's whole body tensed, then the kid resumed his swim and he relaxed, looked back at her. "There are always a few."

Bulma had heard of the big swim before, and she knew people sometimes died doing it, but his attitude to it was uncomfortably casual.

"Why do they do it? And how hasn't it turned into a big thrill-seeker tourist thing. I would have thought you'd make a lot of money spinning it for adrenaline junkies."

"It's a coming of age ritual." As he spoke he moved across the beach and towards the water. Bulma followed him, since he was mid-sentence, and noticed the same dark head bobbing in place again.

"Vegeta!" Goku's voice travelled strong across the water, and Vegeta pointed at the struggling swimmer. Chichi hopped out and stood in the hip-deep water while Goku and Raditz paddled over to the teenager.

"A long time ago, the big swim was how a young hunter or warrior proved himself. Now all the boys without serious medical problems attempt it, either before they go away for year 11 or when they come back after high school, and most of the girls do it, too. It's not a tourist draw because it's part of our traditional culture, and outsiders aren't permitted in the swim."

Bulma frowned. "If it's so dangerous, why let them do it?"

He started walking again. Bulma suspected he wouldn't mind if she stopped following him, but he didn't seem to have a problem talking about this stuff, and it was nice to get information from someone other than Chichi who, while she'd lived her for a while, would never be considered a local unless she married Goku and started popping out some babies with the right ethnic heritage.

"It's important, culturally. Most of the deaths aren't kids like these, anyway. West Islanders come over, and their lifestyles are very different. Anyone who is ethnically an Islander can compete, but most of those kids aren't ready. They train for it in a lap pool and they aren't ready for the currents or the wildlife."

"Don't their parents, um,"

"They knew what their kids were getting into." His voice was impassive and Bulma shook her head.

"Spoken like someone who's never had a family tragedy like that."

"My brother." He pointed at the narrow opening out the ocean. "The currents at the eye are powerful. If the swimmers aren't strong, they're pulled into the sea and thrown against the rocks."

"Oh." Bulma fidgeted again with her shirt. "I'm sorry. Was it very long ago?"

He picked up the pace of his patrol and left her without an answer.

* * *

"Looks like you and Vegeta are friends now." Goku grinned and elbowed Bulma gently.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the beetroot off her burger. "Yeah, right. He's not exactly outgoing. I was just asking him stuff about the swim that's coming up. Aside from you guys and the people at the lab, he's literally the only person I've met."

Chichi laughed. They were eating burgers in paper wrappers, sitting on the edge of the retaining wall in front of Ocean Road so they could watch the swimmers come in, hungry for lunch after their morning practice.

"He likes talking about that sort of stuff. Not so many people know much about us, you know? He'd probably like talking about the city, too. He lived in New York."

Chichi had been watching Goku carefully while he spoke. When he finished, she patted his hand. "Honey, are you trying to set something up? Bulma has someone back home."

"Oh." He looked crestfallen.

"It's more complicated than that," Bulma explained, "but I'm not looking for anyone right now."

Raditz snorted. "I say count yourself lucky this didn't work out, Goku. Imagine if she did like him and then he found out it was because you kept pushing at her."

Goku rubbed his jaw, getting sauce all over it. "Hmm, yeah. I don't know if that would be a really good working environment."

"Is it really that great now?"

They all laughed like it was a big joke. Bulma joined in with an uncertain chuckle and Goku slapped her on the back, leaving a big red handprint on her white shirt.


	4. Chapter 4: On the Precipice

**Chapter 4: On the Precipice**

It took less than one more week for Bulma to give in. Faced with another weekend of hanging-on while Chichi spent time with her boyfriend, Bulma spent Friday doing something not quite authorised.

In an average day at the labs here she finished inputting data and running pre-programmed computations with hours to spare. The scientists were usually too busy to check in on her work, and even Zarbon was losing enthusiasm in the face of her polite but cool responses to him. She was alone for most of the day, with a high-powered computer and a bunch of aquariums. Since Wednesday, she'd been bringing the USB stick to work with her, but this was the first time she'd come close to using it.

"What do you think?" she asked a juvenile ray in a tank near her desk. It fluttered a little against the sand in the bottom of its tank. She took that as a vote of confidence and inserted the drive.

Bulma booted up Capsule Corporation's remote database access software and inputted her user data. Her father had stepped down a few years ago and Bulma's was now the most senior user id in the system, with access to all files for all subsidiaries, including Red Ribbon Pharmaceuticals.

"Gero," she muttered, searching through the access histories for a number of files she thought he might be interested. "Come on, you crazy old bastard. I know you couldn't stay away if you were still alive."

She had to believe he was still out there. He'd always been a little on the precipice, and if this situation was anyone's fault it was his, but the thought that she was the last one was untenable.

There. He'd downloaded a file on his last project less than a week ago. Bulma let out a long sigh of relief, then quickly glanced around the room for witnesses. "Just us," she told the ray, and took a look what else Gero had downloaded.

"Patient files, testing. Approvals to proceed." Bulma mumbled as she read. It was all stuff Gero should already have, but if he'd fled in a hurry he might have needed to replace his copies, especially if he was trying to collate papers for a legal defence while in hiding. The location associated with the dates was near the Red Ribbon branch office in Kyoto, but she didn't doubt Gero's ability to fake that. It wouldn't even be worth trying to trace.

"That's all I wanted to know." Bulma logged out, put the USB drive in her pocket, and let the tension flow away from her spine.

* * *

"There's something about that woman staying with your girlfriend."

"Bulma?" Goku squinted at Vegeta, who was walking with his hands in pockets and nose in the air, being thoughtful. They'd just given a serious talk to some young vandals and their parents and Goku was hoping for a burger or some chips, not a thoughtful discussion. "Yeah, she's got something going on with some guy back home, though."

Vegeta scowled. "Idiot. There's something _suspicious_ about her."

"Oh." Goku looked at the ground. He didn't deny that Vegeta was the more intelligent of the pair, but there were certain areas in which Goku was more grounded. When they'd been kids, Vegeta had watched the store's rental tape of Dirty Harry so many times the tape literally split. According to Goku's dad, Vegeta had wanted to stay in New York and work as a police officer for a few years, and forcing him back was why the old head of the East Island Police Department retired. Goku thought Vegeta could sniff out something suspicious at a two-year-old's birthday party.

"Your woman gets shifty when people start asking Bulma questions."

Goku shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."

"And she wears coloured contact lenses."

"Chichi? No, she doesn't."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "No, Bulma."

"Huh. Really?"

"She's hiding something. Running away from something, maybe."

Goku winced. "I think she's a nice girl. Everybody's got secrets. It's probably just to do with the boyfriend back home; she said it was complicated. You'll just upset her if you pry."

"Chips today, I don't feel like burgers."

Goku hung back and watched Vegeta enter the takeaway with an unhappy weight in his stomach. If Vegeta was avoiding the topic, it meant he'd already made up his mind. Maybe, Goku thought, he should let Chichi know Vegeta had gone all conspiracy theory again.


	5. Chapter 5: A Timely Distraction

**Chapter 5: A Timely Distraction**

"Someone keeps crank calling the house," Chichi complained. She was lying along the length of the couch with her stockinged feet in Goku's lap. It had been a long day on her feet, and things were weighing on her heavy lately.

Goku frowned. "How long?"

Chichi tipped her head back to look at Bulma, curled up in an armchair.

"Just a few days now, but really late at night."

It was Bulma's third week on the island and she was beginning to feel like a real part of the household. She'd received her first paycheque, so she'd begun contributing to Chichi's finances, and she felt like they were becoming close friends for the first time.

"Ugh." Goku rubbed his face. "It's really hard to get phone records, it all comes through West Island. Maybe unplug the phone when you go to bed and just keep your mobile where you can hear it for emergencies?"

Vegeta returned from the kitchen and flicked on the television at the set. Bulma found him kind of weird and stare-y, but because he and Goku worked together, and because Chichi nearly always had baked goods in the kitchen, he often dropped by in the evening. Despite his frequent presence and constant glaring, he hadn't said more than a few words to her since their conversation on the beach. Bulma had suggested to Chichi that taking up lifeguard duty maybe suggested hidden depths, but according to Chichi it had been Goku's job under the old police chief, and Vegeta just didn't want Goku to get all the glory.

"No wine left?" she asked.

"Quiet," he grunted. "News."

Bulma rolled her eyes but didn't complain. She liked the news, just not the demanding way he insisted everyone watch it.

The newsreader rolled through the headlines to be addressed later, then launched into the lead story.

The discovery of Doctor Gero's body.

Bulma's mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. She could feel Vegeta watching her and attempted to school her expression.

"Sources close to the investigation have revealed Dr. Gero's death probably occurred eight days ago, with the body remaining undiscovered in Dr. Gero's private jet for that time."

She made a sound somewhere between choking and crying and stood up instinctively.

"Bulma?" Chichi sat up and reached a hand out to touch Bulma's arm, but she shook her head and pushed the hand away. She'd convinced herself Gero still lived because of the file access, but he must have died almost immediately after. Bulma could imagine the scenario; Gero downloading the files, ready to go into hiding, heading for the airstrip and even making it into his jet, thinking he was safe. But somebody was waiting for him there.

"I'm sorry," Bulma gasped, and fled for her room.

Chichi wrung her hands and Goku massaged her shoulders. "She's just sensitive," Chichi insisted.

Vegeta glared, unmoving, at Bulma's bedroom door.

* * *

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and it took her twice as long to type up data at work. When Zarbon enquired after her health, voice laced with genuine concern, she snapped at him so venomously he left the room without checking the tank thermometers. Bulma still managed to finish early, and today she let them know she was done and took an early mark. Zarbon whispered to the team as she left, but she couldn't tell whether he was complaining about her or claiming she was unwell.

At the winding coast road which headed into town, she went the other way. In places, the narrow coastal road cut right out over the rocks and she had to walk on the bitumen itself, watching nervously for the cars which always travelled too fast around these tight turns. You could go all the way around East Island on Ocean Road without ever losing sight of the water out your window. Even in the off-season it was relatively well-used, being the only way to get from the ferry terminal or most of the more isolated homes into town.

She walked for half an hour before she started to think about what she was doing, peering down at where the ocean crashed into hundreds of little caves which pocked the coastline. She couldn't honestly tell whether she was scouting out hiding places or deciding whether drowning was a better way to go than murder.

It was a relief to see a car parked next to the road. A timely distraction.

"Hey, Bulma."

She was startled halfway over to the car by Goku's voice from behind her. He emerged from below the road on the ocean side.

"What are you doing down there? How did you even get down there?" When she put a hand to her chest her heart was beating fast. If Goku could scare her like that she really must be a mess.

"The rocks cut away under the road here. At low tide there's a little bit of a sandy beach, even, and some good caved. What are you doing up here? Got a friend at one of the farms up way?"

She shook her head. "No, no. I was just going for a walk. Clearing my head."

"We need to block off access somehow."

The second voice came from below the road. Even when she crossed over to the safety barrier on the road and looked down, it seemed like the short cliff dropped off to nothing, and it was unsettling to hear someone talking from down there.

"Like tape it off?" Goku called back. He pulled a milk crate from the car boot and climbed back down the rocks, disappearing into nowhere. Bulma could hear the conversation continuing, but not make out the words.

After a little while Vegeta emerged, and scrambled up the rocks with a milk crate full of alcohol, which he put into the car. He gave her a hard look but didn't say anything.

He didn't climb back down, either, so eventually she felt obliged to talk. "What are these, like smuggling caves because you can't get alcohol here?"

He snorted contemptuously. "Kids getting ready for their post-swim parties. If anyone were going to try smuggling alcohol in for retail they wouldn't be stupid enough to do it this way. The only reason we don't lose more lives from cave-parties than the swim itself is vigilance."

"Oh." She looked back down at the ocean, but he still didn't make any move to head back into the cave. "I guess teenagers just like to celebrate."

"What's your connection to Dr. Gero?" She looked back at him sharply, then avoided further eye contact.

"What's your connection to subtlety and tact? Seems like it's nothing, just like mine with Gero."

He moved away from the car and she thought for a moment he might go back down, but he crossed over to the barrier and stood just a couple of metres away from her, staring his annoying stare. "You were upset at the story on the news last night."

"A man died," she replied loftily. "It's appropriate to be upset."

"A lot of people have died because of what Gero did."

She stiffened, and turned around to face him fully, fixing him with the look that used to make employees tremble. "Are you suggesting he deserved to be murdered?"

"I didn't just mean the people who died as a result of those implants. Somebody out there has taken a broad approach to retribution. It would make sense for people connected to Red Ribbon to start hiding." He looked her right in the eyes and she had the horrible feeling that he knew exactly who she was, and if some buttfuck-nowhere cop could see through her, who couldn't?

"I have to get going or I won't make it home before dark." She turned to go but he made up ground quicker than she would have expected for a little man and grabbed her arm.

"What's your real name?" He was really staring now, right into her eyes like they were going to turn into neon signs blinking out her birth certificate. "I know you're not really Bulma Beattie. What are you, Gero's PA? A lab tech?"

She would have been insulted if she hadn't been so relieved he hadn't guessed her actual identity.

"You're hurting me," she said quietly. For a moment she thought he wasn't going to let go, but he did draw back eventually. He rejoined Goku in the caves, and Bulma tottered back to town on legs like jelly.


	6. Chapter 6: Keep Breathing

**Chapter 6: Keep Breathing**

Vegeta broke Chichi's television.

The four of them were watching the news before dinner when Goku, sitting next to him, had started quietly needling him about something. Vegeta growled several warnings before exploding into an expletive-heavy tirade about Goku's stupidity. Chichi's living room was so small that if you stood up without being careful, you would push the coffee table up against the old washstand the TV balanced upon. Vegeta stood up with so little care and so much force the appliance toppled off its stand, and the threadbare carpet turned out to be inadequate cushioning for such a fall.

Chichi shrieked and pulled her feet up onto the couch. After a moment where everyone was still, Goku lifted her over the back of it so she wouldn't have to walk in stockinged feet over the area covered in pieces of ex-television. Chichi came back in gumboots, carrying a dustpan and brush and set to work on the debris while Goku carried the television outside to the bins. When she'd finished, she warned Bulma against walking barefoot until Chichi got a chance to vacuum, then joined Goku outside.

Through the whole cleanup, Vegeta just stood frozen in place, his face a peculiar shade of purple which Bulma took to mean he was still mad at Goku, and mad about the interruption to his spiel.

She stood up from her armchair. "I should vacuum for her. Do you know where she keeps it?"

Bulma was a little embarrassed to admit she'd been here for so long and still didn't know where Chichi kept the vacuum cleaner. When she looked a little closer at Vegeta's expression it occurred to her that this, too, was embarrassment.

"I will get her a new television," he said stiffly, defensively.

"What did Goku even say to make you that mad?" Bulma opened a cupboard and checked for cleaning equipment.

"I cannot stand idiocy."

Bulma snorted and closed the cupboard. "If you got that mad every time Goku said something dumb this whole island would be nothing but a smoking crater by now. What's eating at you?"

"If I answer your questions, you answer mine."

She laughed and turned around, resting her back against the cupboard door. "I bet I could find out the answers to my questions by asking Goku, but if your questions could be answered by anyone else, you'd already have the answers."

He shrugged, and began walking gingerly on bare feet towards the door to join the others.

"I'll bite," Bulma called. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was just because she felt nervous in the house alone, nervous intruding on Goku and Chichi together, but not nervous annoying this guy. He was still a little creepy, but much less so than an empty room. "But if the question is just about my name again, it's still Bulma Beattie."

In fact, it was more Bulma Beattie than ever before. The day after he'd practically ripped her arm off in the middle of the road (or at least that was how she chose to remember it) Bulma used her time at work to access a few things she shouldn't and do a few things she oughtn't to ensure Bulma Beattie had a paper trail, should any wannabe-Sherlocks start snooping around.

"What were you doing before you came to the island?"

"You first."

He thought about it for a moment before deciding to answer. "I am irritated about some work-related issues."

She waited for more but he just stared back with flat, unyielding eyes set in a flat, unyielding expression. "Okay. I was a grad student. I've had a bit of a crisis of faith and I thought doing something undemanding in a beautiful place while staying with a friend might clear my head. Now I want to know exactly what your work-related issues are."

His eyes narrowed and she had the unsettling feeling that he didn't believe her at all, that he was much more perceptive than anyone in a place like this had any business being. "West Island always sends two police officers to assist in crowd control for the swim. This year they have sent four. It's an imposition. What were you studying?"

"Physics." That threw him, which at least told Bulma he still didn't suspect Bulma Beattie of being Bulma Briefs, or he would be expecting a backstory that explained a strong knowledge in the sciences. "Isn't more help welcome, for things like clearing out those caves?"

"No. The swim is this island's responsibility. It is _my_ responsibility." His voice was rising. Bulma suspected he didn't really have the money to go around buying new televisions any much more than Chichi did, and if he kept getting worked up so close to the shelves he'd be up for a new stereo as well.

"Okay. I'm going to go out with the others."

As she moved past him he grabbed her arm and she winced. Last time he'd left an awful bruise. Big, strong hands for a little guy. "Wait. I get one more question."

She raised her eyebrows but couldn't really argue with that. In the narrow entry-way, flanked by coats and boots, his face was very close to hers. He was staring at her very intently and she had the momentary thought that he was going to ask to kiss her. It was understandable, because she was wildly attractive even with her hair like this, but it was also inappropriate. She had a boyfriend back in real life.

"If you have no connection to Gero, what are you so scared of?"

Bulma's breath fluttered unhappily in her throat. She liked that question even less than the kissing one. She was working so hard not just to seem like she wasn't scared, but to _be_ not scared. This was a safe place. He was the law here. Why wasn't he acting like it was a safe place?

She worked her mouth up into a childlike grin. "Your face." She stuck out her tongue and twisted out of his grip, skipping out the door with a high, artificial giggle like a balloon losing air.

He was starting to make it hard for her to keep breathing.


	7. Chapter 7: Empty House

**Chapter 7: Empty House**

The air was getting colder and strangers had started coming to town in their long sleeves and closed-in shoes. The town was becoming an odd mixture of outsiders like Bulma or Chichi dressed in jeans and long sleeves scattered between the locals, with their wild dark hair and eyes, often dressed in little more than their deep tans, no matter how biting the sea wind felt to Bulma. It made her feel anxious to see someone unfamiliar walk down the street in sunglasses, like they were hiding their intentions, but she was pleased by the uniformed police officers.

All four of them were out and about in uniform every day so far, looking very West Island. All of them fair-skinned and fast-moving. Officious. She smiled broadly at the blonde lady officer standing near the top of the shops on Main. There was no acknowledgement in return, but it made Bulma feel safer just knowing they were there.

She checked the little map Chichi had drawn on the back of Bulma's hand. She was heading down to help the boys with the television, because apparently throwing something into a car to transport it was an obscene extravagance.

Bulma ducked down a narrow street lined with the backs of houses. The street, which was more of a path, curved down towards the ocean, and a break in backyard fences revealed a little bungalow, haphazardly stitched onto the backside of one of the old art deco hotels which lined Ocean. If she found out you could get in here through the old hotel from the front, without traipsing through some potholed murder alley, Bulma was going to be pissed.

"Hey, guys?" Bulma called through the window. "Chichi had to work so I'm the traffic conductor today. Guys?"

She knocked on the door and it swung open beneath her fist. The sensation made her stomach roll, but she reminded herself that everyone here left their doors unlocked. If anyone other than Chichi knew Bulma made her lock the doors to go to bed they'd laugh.

Bulma stepped inside and called out again. She was impressed with the age of the linoleum in the front room, and when she moved through the living room it became clear the carpet pre-dated it, as did a lot of the furniture. She wondered if the whole house was a gently moth-eaten orange-and-green tribute to meticulous housekeepers of the sixties and seventies.

"Hello?" Bulma called out again, but her voice was soft. When was the last time she'd walked into an open house and been greeted with no signs of life? She phrased the thought like a question so she had the chance to answer in the form of a lie. "I don't remember," she whispered aloud, "but I'm sure it all turned out to be very normal and not horrible at all."

She called out "Goku?" again, and moved forward to the next door, near the couch. It was slightly ajar. She pressed slowly on it with one hand, the other covering her face like a toddler hiding from punishment.

It was a bedroom. It felt brighter than the rest of the house, like she was peeking through the crack into another world. Soft grey sunlight filtered through white curtains. The soft breeze picked up the thin curtains and they flitted uncertainly around the bedspread. Someone was under the bedcovers. Bulma felt like she was breathing in slow motion, watching the figure and waiting for the blankets to rise and fall with breath. How could they not have stirred yet when she'd breathed so much, so slow, in the time. Nobody could hold their breath that long. She'd taken five breaths, six, seven...

"Hey."

A hand landed on Bulma's shoulder and she screamed, jumping on the spot and kicking out at the door. It slammed open with a loud crack against the interior wall. She spun around and lashed out with fists and feet and tried to run but he caught her and she struggled for what seemed like forever before she realised it was Goku, just Goku, and the screams subsided into sobs. He put his arm around her.

It took a while before she was willing to move. Goku gave directions to the bathroom and she washed her face, fixed her contacts, and returned to the room. Vegeta and Goku sat in armchairs, clutching mugs and trying awkwardly not to stare at her.

"I didn't know if you liked tea or coffee, so we got both." Goku pointed at the pair of mugs sitting on the table. Bulma gave him a frayed smile and took the tea before sitting down.

"I think I might be wound up enough without a caffeine infusion."

Goku laughed nervously. "Yeah, I think you gave Vegeta's dad a fright."

"I'm so sorry. I just, I guess my imagination got the best of me."

Goku chewed on the edge of his mug. Bulma looked around for something to say.

"Some of this furniture's probably worth a fair bit by now. This sofa's very mid-century."

"What are you afraid of?"

It was the first time Vegeta had even looked at her, and Goku hissed something at him. Apparently the pecking order was upended when it came to dealing with crying women.

"I already answered that one." She smiled but he didn't seem amused. "Look, I guess I'm just not from a place where you leave your door open while you're out. To me it means something bad has happened. I had a bad experience once."

"I'm so sorry, Bulma. If we'd known you were coming instead of Chichi we would have left a note to say where we were. Wouldn't we, Vegeta?" She was surprised to see Goku actually reach across and shove Vegeta, who responded with a sort of mumbled agreement.

"It's okay, you couldn't have known. Let's just get that television moving. Where is it?" She smiled big and bright but her face still felt hot and her hands still shook.

* * *

The television turned out to be Vegeta's own. Apparently he didn't want to waste a day going over to West Island to pick one up, especially not while it meant leaving all the West Island uniforms unsupervised. Goku made a crack about this TV being better than what he could afford to buy new anyway, but he didn't seem to appreciate it.

They made it up the hill with Bulma guiding their progress and watching for cars. The new set barely fit onto Chichi's washstand, and it dominated the small room. Bulma found it difficult to imagine this man, whose work uniform was a cheap brown suit and whose car was only exactly as good as it needed to be for his job to be done efficiently, splashing the kind of money a television like that must have cost out here.

As if he could tell what she was thinking, Vegeta managed to speak to her for the first time since they'd left his house. "It was a graduation gift."

That threw her for a moment. If that was his graduation gift he must be a fair bit younger than she'd originally thought. Younger than her. What would he have to be, twenty-two, three? He didn't seem so young. "Wish my parents would have bought me something like that when I finished high school," she said, because it was the sort of thing people usually said. In actual fact, when Bulma graduated high school her parents bought her a Ferrari. He didn't need to know that.

"College." She flinched at the bitterness in that one word. At least it was a word that meant she didn't have to start cutting him slack for being just a kid. He'd be more like her original estimate after all, around her own age. "We're not all uneducated hicks."

"Sorry. Is that when you were in New York? Goku mentioned you lived in New York for a bit." He nodded. "What did you study?"

He didn't answer, just stared mutely at the blank television screen. Bulma wished Goku would come back from the kitchen, but he was probably going through the entire fridge.

"Did I ... distress you?" He addressed his comment at the TV and folded his arms across his chest uncomfortably.

"Today? No, it's like I said. Just something from my past."

"No." He glared at the TV some more. "Yesterday. I was trying to express that if you're frightened and need help you should ask us."

The way he ground out the words made it sound as though talking nice caused him physical pain. Bulma rolled her eyes. "Because you want to help me, or because helping people is part of your job and a good way to indulge your nosiness?"

He turned to face her before answering this time. "I take my professional duties much more seriously than my personal whims, so you should be gratified that I don't give a shit about helping you on a personal level."

Bulma's jaw went slack. He just kept on staring her right in the eyes until something clicked in her brain and she realised he was being funny. On purpose. She still didn't feel like laughter, but she allowed a small chuckle.

"I'm not in any danger here." She said it loud, to make it more true. "I appreciate that you want to help, but I'm fine."

Goku returned from the kitchen at last and the two men left. Bulma picked up another novel and headed out to read by the shore. She wasn't in any danger and she was fine, but she couldn't stand an empty house.


End file.
